


Millennium

by clgfanfic



Category: Soldier of Fortune Inc.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>December 31, 1999...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Millennium

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Black Ops #4 and later in Watch Your Six #3 with Mary Fallon Zane.

## December 30, 1999

 

          Matthew Q. Shepherd, former Army Special Forces major, sat watching the sweep hand circle slowly around the large clock face on the wall across the room once, twice, three times, four…  He blinked and shook his head, stifling a yawn.

          He sighed heavily.  Doctor's officers were almost as bad as hospitals – the same hushed tones, same canned music, same antiseptic odor.  Glancing to his right, he studied Margo as she slowly paged through a thick magazine.  It was the same one she'd glanced through when they had first arrived – he checked the clock again – two hours and thirteen minutes ago.  Sitting next to her, Benny Ray stared across the room at a large painting, a desert landscape from somewhere in the American southwest.  He looked relaxed, ready to sit there and wait all day if necessary.  Matt envied the sniper that calmness.

          Beside Benny Ray, C.J. sat, his eyes closed, his head bobbing slightly to the beat of the music through his headphones.  Wishing he had a CD player, or a book, or the sniper's patience, anything to take his mind off the waiting, Matt resigned himself to fidgeting – fingers, toes… he squirmed in his seat, rolled his shoulders, his neck… he sighed.

He checked the clock – two hours, sixteen minutes.  Christ, only three minutes had passed.

Margo handed him an issue of _Sports Illustrated_.  "Thanks," he said, his voice pitched soft.

"How long can this take?" she asked, equally quiet.  "It's just a check-up.  Right?"

Matt shrugged.  "I don't know," he muttered, glancing at the door that led back to the various offices and exam rooms.  "But I wish someone would tell us something."

"Might as well be a damned waitin' room in the hospital," Benny Ray drawled quietly.

"No, it's better than that," C.J. commented.  "At least we know he's going to live."

"Okay, good point," Matt agreed.

"But will they let him come back?" Margo asked, voicing their collective question.

"Guess we'll just have to wait to find out," Matt said.  It was almost a groan.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Chance sat across the desk from his doctor, listening to the man run down the list of his injuries, how they had treated each of them, and the latest reports from other various specialists and physical therapists that he had been seeing for almost four months now.  It was an impressive list, but he wished the man would cut to the chase and tell him he whether or not he was good to go.

It was that last that had him really worried.  What if the doctor was leading up to explaining that he _couldn't_ return to the team?  What if his days as an operator were finally over for good?

 _Impossible_ , he thought.  _I feel fine – great, in fact.  I know I can still do the job… but he might not.  He isn't an operator, he doesn't understand what we do, how we do it_.  He didn't understand a damned thing, but he held Chance's future in his hands.  It just didn't seem fair…

"Mr. Walker?"

Chance blinked and looked up at the doctor.  What had the man said?  "Excuse me?" he said.

The physician smiled.  "I said, as far as I'm concerned, you're ready to go back to work."

Chance blinked twice as the words slowly sank in.  "I'm okay?"

The man nodded.  "As far as I can tell, you're as healthy as a horse.  Go kick some bad-guy butt."

The smile that bloomed on the pilot's face was sincere.  "Thank you, Doctor."

"Hey, you did all the hard work."  He glanced down at the open file on his desk.  "So, any questions?"

Chance thought a moment, then shook his head.  "No, not that I can think of."

"Well, if you come up with anything, give me a call.  I probably won't be able to talk, but I will call you back."

"I'll do that," the handsome black man said, standing.  He stuck out his hand and the doctor shook it.  "Thanks again."

"You're very welcome.  Oh, and be sure to schedule a follow-up appointment for three months.  If you're doing fine, I'll cut you loose."

"Will do."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt leaned back in his chair, wishing he could pace.  The other people scattered around the waiting room kept him from doing it, but it was tempting.  He checked the clock again – two hours and thirty-three minutes.  How long could this possibly take?

He glanced again at his companions.  Margo had given up reading and was carefully inspecting her fingernails.  Benny Ray was still staring at the painting, and C.J. look liked he had fallen asleep.  And all he wanted to do was pace, or better yet, storm the receptionist's counter.  He glanced over at the young woman sitting behind the desk.  She flashed him a smile.  Okay, so maybe he shouldn't scare the poor girl to death.

The door leading back to the examination rooms creaked open and Chance stepped out into the waiting room.  His expression was carefully neutral.

Matt was instantly on his feet.  "Chance?" he asked.

The black man met Shepherd's eyes, his expression still giving away nothing.  Matt felt the cold knot that had settled into the pit of his stomach cinch tighter.

The other operators were on their feet, forming a semi-circle around the man, each expression as worried as the next.

Chance held his excitement for another few seconds, then gave in.  He smiled broadly.  "I'm good to go, sir."

The smile that lit Matt's face was accusing as well as relieved.  "You could've just said so," he chastised, but his tone was teasing.  He reached out and squeezed both of the man's shoulders.  "That's good news."

Chance shrugged one shoulder, then jerked his head toward the receptionist's counter.  "I have to make a follow-up, but it's just routine.  He said everything was fine."

"That's _great_ news," C.J. amended, punching the pilot's shoulder lightly when Shepherd let go.

"Damn straight," Benny Ray agreed with a grin.  "Guess this means the celebration's on."

"Celebration?" Chance asked.

Margo flashed the man a smile.  "You didn't think we were going to let this pass without one massive party, now did you?"

Chance grinned.  "I always knew there was a reason I liked you people."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

## The Following Day

 

          "Careful," Matt cautioned as Benny Ray and C.J. carried the TV up the last flight of stairs.  Margo held the door open for them to carry it out onto the roof.

          "This gonna work?" the sniper asked, his tone making it clear he had some serious doubts.

          C.J. grinned as he looked up at the man.  "Of course it's going to work."  He set to work, hooking up the cable splice he'd spent the morning perfecting.

          The sniper shook his head and walked over to see how Matt and Margo were doing with the food.  The barbecue smoked just slightly, the cooking steaks almost done.  "Smells good," he said.

          Matt nodded, his expression serious and considering.  "Another five to seven minutes, tops."

          Margo shook her head.  Men; why did they think barbecuing was rocket science?  "I'm going to go get the rest of the food."  She looked at Benny Ray.  "Come help me."

          "Aye aye, ma'am," he replied.

          She rolled her eyes.

          As they passed the Brit he bellowed, "I've got it!  I _told_ you this would work."

          "Where's Chance?" Margo asked as they watched C.J. change the channel to CNN.  The Millennium coverage had already started, but the network was repeating the highlights as they waited for the next major celebration to occur as the year 2000 arrived at various cities around the globe.

          Benny Ray checked his watch.  "He ought t' be here any time now.  He took the German up."

          "Yeah, sort of a private celebration," C.J. added, grinning at Margo, hoping she would appreciate his genius.

          Margo pointedly ignored the Brit.  Chance loved to fly, and he'd been grounded during his recovery.  It made sense that he'd want to spend some time in the air now that he'd been cleared for duty.  "Everything ready?" she asked C.J.

          He nodded, grinning.  "Five by five."

With a nod, she led the way down to the basement, Benny Ray following behind her.  Together they were almost able to manage all of the food for their rooftop dinner.  Not for the first time she silently thanked the fates that this was a La Niña year, the mild winter making the cook-out possible.  She was about to suggest that they come back for the rest when a voice called, "Need some help?"

          She turned.  "Chance, your timing couldn't be better."  Nodding to the rest of the plates and bowls, she added, "Grab these and follow us."

          The pilot quickly gathered the items.

          "Good flight?" Benny Ray asked.

          "Great flight," Chance replied, as he followed the pair to the roof.

          Stepping onto the roof, Chance paused and stared.  There was a television playing CNN's Millennium coverage.  Streamers, Christmas lights and other decorations were everywhere, along with balloons and a banner that read:  Happy New Year!  Welcome Back Chance!  There was even a small pile of presents sitting on a little table someone had carried outside.

He shook his head, then carried the food over to the picnic table and set it down.  "This is nice," he said.  "But you really didn't—"

"We wanted to, mate," C.J. interrupted.

"That's right," Matt added.  "And since the steaks are done, let's leave it at that."

Chance grinned and quickly sat down.  A few moments later they were all eating while they watched the Millennium arrive in Europe.

Once they were done with the steaks, the operators moved to the folding chairs.  Two small space heaters radiated enough warmth to keep the cooler night air comfortable and they all stretched out, still watching the unfolding global celebration.  A few minutes later, Matt rose and disappeared for a few minutes.  When he got back, he carried over four beers and a soda for C.J.  After handing them out, he sat down.  He took a sip of his beer, then looked up at the stars visible through the light and pollution haze and smiled.  Life was good.

After watching a spectacular display of pyrotechnics at the Effiel Tower, C.J. pushed himself up and wandered off out of sight.  When the Brit didn't return after several minutes, Chance sat up and looked around.

"Where'd C.J. go?" he asked.

"Surprise," Benny Ray said.

The pilot looked over at the sniper, but he knew he wasn't going to get anything else out of him.  He shifted his focus to Matt and Margo, but they looked equally smug.

"What?" he asked.

"You're just going to have to wait," Margo said.

"Fire in the hole!" C.J. yelled from somewhere on the roof.  A moment later a whistle announced the first of a series of fireworks that exploded off the top of the Silver Star, bursting over the Pacific.

"Wow," Chance breathed, watching the impressive display.  Below, on the beach he could hear other appreciative exclamations.  "This legal?" he asked.

"C.J. got all the necessary permits," Margo said.

"Yeah, took him almost a month, too," Matt added.

"But a millennium only comes by once in a few lifetimes," C.J. said.  "I have more.  Thought you'd rather see a Brit setting off fireworks than fireworks in Britain."  He grinned devilishly, but before he could turn to go back to his display, the door opened and Xavier Trout stepped out onto the roof.

He was met by a chorus of groans.

"What?" he demanded, looking hurt.

"You'd better not be here with a job, Trout," Matt half-growled as he climbed off the chair and walked over to join the man.

They shook hands, Trout saying, "No, no job.  Just a… gift, a bonus."  He held up the metal briefcase he carried.

Matt's eyes rounded slightly.  "A bonus?"

"Call it a millennium windfall."

Shepherd cleared a place, then set the briefcase on the picnic table and opened it.  "That's some windfall," he said, looking up at the older man.

Trout shrugged.  "You've all earned it.  And I've heard the good news, congratulations, Mr. Walker."

Chance smiled.  "It's good to be back."

Another high-pitched whistle sounded and a shell zinged over the older man's head.  Trout ducked, cursing softly under his breath.  He straightened, shooting a glare at C.J., who smiled wanly and said, "Sorry, that one, uh, got away from me."

"Uh-huh," Trout replied.  "You know, Mr. Yates, you _could_ be replaced."

The Brit paused for a moment, then grinned and replied, "Not bloody likely."

Trout shook his head, but found himself a seat, watching the remainder of the fireworks with the operators.  When C.J. announced that he was done, they all applauded.  He responded with a flamboyant bow.

Trout checked his watch.  "I'd better go," he said.  "I have an appointment for midnight, and I'll just make it."

Margo's eyebrows arched.  "Sounds, well, it's none of my business."

"Not to worry, Ms. Vincent," he assured.  "Just a small gathering of old friends."

"Then you could've stayed here," Shepherd offered.

Trout smiled.  "I appreciate that, Matt, I really do, but this is important."  With a wave he was off.

When Trout was gone, Matt turned to the others, asking, "So, I guess it's about time Chance opened these," he said, gesturing to the gifts.

"What?" the pilot asked.  "Why?"

Margo smiled.  "Because we're glad you're back," she said simply.

Chance blushed and dipped his head.  "Thanks."

The first box held a pair of finely balanced throwing knives.  Chance looked up, meeting Matt's eyes.  "These are incredible.  They're perfect!"

Shepherd nodded.  "Enjoy."

"Thanks," he said, looking embarrassed as he reached for the next box.  Inside he found a CD.

"I, uh, thought you'd enjoy that when you're up in the German," C.J. said.

"Better not be that crap you listen to," Chance teased.

"No, it's that crap you like," the Brit replied with a grin.  "Plus a few surprises."

"Surprises?"

C.J. dipped his head, then looked up and said, "A friend of mine found some old jazz pieces that were recorded in London during various visits from people like Holiday, Muddy Waters, a few others from the 20s through the early 60s.  They've never been heard here in the States.  She, uh, sent me the tracks and I burned them onto a CD."

"Thanks, C.J.," the pilot said, smiling widely.  "That's great.  Really great."

"No problem," was the reply from the blushing man.

The third gift was an engraved invitation to one of the local five star restaurants.  He looked up, his eyes wide.  "Margo?"

Her eyes rounded as she assumed an innocent expression.  "What?  I thought you might like a good meal to make up for all the hospital food you've had to endure.  The lady is… your choice."

The black man grinned.  "Classy, as always."

She smiled and shrugged.

"You free this Friday?"

"I can be," she replied.

Chance reached for the last box.  It was light.  He opened it.  His eyes rounded.  "Airline tickets?" he asked.  He looked up at Benny Ray.  "You trying to get rid of me already?"

The sniper shrugged, looking nonchalant.

Chance took out the tickets and checked them – first class to Philadelphia and back to Los Angeles.  He looked up, his expression questioning.

"Family," Benny Ray said quietly.  "You helped me get back in touch with mine; I thought your family might like to spend some time with you.  You ain't been home for a while."

"No, no, I haven't," he said.  Chance looked to Matt.  "You know about this?"

Shepherd nodded.  "I've already talked to Trout.  We're all on a three week vacation, starting at midnight."

"Your flight leaves day after tomorrow," Benny Ray said.  "Tell your mom and sisters hello."

"I'll do that," he promised.  "But I'm coming back a few days early so we can go break in those jet-skis we got for Christmas."

"Now that sounds like a plan," C.J. said.

Chance looked to Margo.  "Raincheck on that dinner?"

"Sure," she said, "but you really don't have to take me…  Hey, look," Margo interrupted, nodding at the television.  Midnight was arriving in Time Square.

They watched the ball drop, the crowds cheering, fireworks exploding overhead.  Confetti rained out of the sky.

"Just a couple more hours," Matt said.  "Hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Never thought I'd see it," C.J. said honestly.  "Not this bloody lifetime.

"Amen to that," Benny Ray echoed.

"But here we are," Chance said.  "Lean, mean and still takin' on the bad-guys."

"New millennium," Margo said, "you'd think we'd finally learn how to live in peace."

"Someday," Matt replied.

"Put us out of a job," C.J. said.

"Nothin' wrong with retirement," Benny Ray said.

"Amen to that, Brother Ray," Chance agreed.

"I'm going to go get dessert," Matt said.  "Anyone want another beer?  Soda, C.J.?"

They all nodded.  "I'll help," Margo offered.

She and Matt returned a few minutes later with four beers, a coke and a warm apple pie and a half gallon of vanilla ice cream.

"The all-American dessert," Chance said, cutting the pie into five wedges and moving each into a shallow bowl.

Benny Ray scooped ice cream into the bowls and C.J. passed them out.  They settled into comfortable silence as they ate, then finished their drinks.

As midnight drew closer, Matt disappeared for a few minutes, returning with two bottles of champagne.  As the celebration began in Los Angeles, he and Chance popped the corks on the bottles, pouring the bubbling liquid into flutes.  Each of the operators accepted a glass, even C.J.  As fireworks began to explode off the beach farther down the coast, the people on the sand began to sing.  The words of _Auld Lang Syne_ drifted up to the roof.

Five crystal glasses chimed in a collective toast.

"To health," Chance said.

"Luck," Margo added.

"Family," Benny Ray said, "of all kinds."

"Friends," Matt offered.

"And some things that are worth fighting for," C.J. concluded.

They all drank, C.J. setting the champagne down and finishing with a swallow of his soda.

They all stood, watching the distant fireworks for several minutes.

"Well, the lights didn't go out," Matt said.

"The TV's still on," Margo commented.

"And CNN says the computers are up and running," Chance added.

"So much for Y2K," Benny Ray said.

"Hype," C.J. said.  "I told you, it was just a ploy to sell people stuff they wouldn't need."

"God bless America," Margo said.

And they toasted once again.

The End


End file.
